


Through a Distant Haze

by Dr4conianlaw



Category: Kamen Rider Build
Genre: Gen, Memory Loss, Post Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 17:58:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15846441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr4conianlaw/pseuds/Dr4conianlaw
Summary: Nascita gets two new boarders. Misora wonders.





	Through a Distant Haze

**Author's Note:**

> Listen if the Zi-o trailer is gonna show us that the boys are back in Nascita for some reason then I get to wonder how awkward that would be.
> 
> Title is from the song "[And So It Goes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kd_hxd-Dp1U)," which actually was playing in the cafe in episode 49! And big thanks to Stella for beta help, truly you are a star (and thus the name.)

It was a few weeks later when Satou Tarou returned to Nascita, alongside-- who?

His face, his braids... something about them are familiar to Misora but-- he’s... not a member of Lynx, right?

She rubbed at her wrist.

As they approached the counter, her dad’s face lit up, dropping what he was doing to run over to greet them. (Satou Tarou looked-- nervous? And his companion, vaguely defensive. Ridiculous, who would be afraid of her dad...)

“Ah, you’re back! And I can’t believe it, you’re Banjo Ryuga, right? I love tuning into your matches on TV!”

Ah, that-- explained it, maybe? Misora was no real fan of boxing herself, but dad often had it on and she had watched a good few matches out of boredom. That must be it.

(Something felt... incomplete about that though. Because Satou Tarou and apparently Banjo Ryuga standing next to each other felt as natural as anything, but what connection would there be between the rockstar and the boxer?)

She rubbed at her wrist.

Satou Taro explained to Dad that he-- wasn’t Satou Tarou, apparently, he was Kiryu Sento, and it’s fine, people misidentify him a lot. And that he and Banjo were looking for work and-- not-Satou looked a little sheepish at this-- possibly maybe some place to stay if he might happen to know of any place at all?

Dad was positively glowing. “Oh, right, of course, I'd be glad to help out, I’m such a big fan! I don’t know if it’d be up to your usual rockstar standards, but Nascita does have a basement, and it would at least be pretty private.~”

“Ah, I said I’m not--”

Dad shushed him, placing a finger on his lips. “Don’t you worry you crazy kids, your secret is safe with me. Anyways, if you’re--” Dad broke out the finger quotes, ”Really ‘Not Satou Tarou’ then you’d be fine helping me around the cafe as well?”

“...Yes, that was literally what I was asking. To find work.”

“Right.~” A wink. “To find work.~” Another wink. “I believe you.~” Yet a third wink. (Oh god, her Dad.)

He looked ready to argue further- before deflating, finally willing to give up at her Dad’s continued teasing, and he allowed Dad to lead him to the basement.

A trace of puzzlement quickly flashed and disappeared from (Satou Tarou? Kiryu Sento?)’s face as he looked at the door to the basement. She wasn’t sure if she should be annoyed at the quickly hidden reaction-- yeah, the entrance was weirdly small, and kind of a pain, but they made due. Still, he followed him down.

-

It was a few days but their two new boarders seemed to settle in quickly enough. There hadn’t been much in the basement, not even a bed, but Dad had at least gotten a large sleeping mat brought in and they seemed fine with that.

Not-Satou Tarou was-- probably not actually Satou Tarou, Misora thought. Dad was still absolutely convinced he was, and the resemblance was uncanny to be sure, but... his behavior was totally off. None of the rough rockstar swagger she would have expected, he seemed nervous, and kind of particular, and neat, and pretty smart on top of that and-- yeah, probably not Satou Tarou.

She had brought it up with her Dad at one point, but he had only said-- “Well, you know those big stars and their stage personas, right?”

Banjo Ryuga was definitely Banjo Ryuga though. He had tried a couple times to wave off Dad asking about his matches with a, no, I’m a different Banjo Ryuga, but, c’mon. Neither Misora or her Dad were born yesterday.

The two of them seemed practically inseparable. Neither of them seemed to ever leave the cafe on their own, and when at Nascita there was a constant level of casual physical contact between them-- heads leaning on each other’s shoulders, hands held. Dad certainly seemed-- some level of right, in his wild theories about them eloping or whatever it was.

That was-- unfamiliar familiar. Not familiar, but... expected? Inevitable? ...It was getting hard to define these strange vibes.

She rubbed at her wrist.

Banjo acted weirdly familiar with her for an acquaintance of only a few days, but she didn’t know if there was something weird about that or if it was just how his personality was. He was friendly though, he didn’t seem to mean anything by it.

For whatever reason though, he remained oddly standoffish with her Dad-- until an incident that had happened yesterday. He was on a break, and was sipping at a can of coffee which was-- weird, and kind of rude, honestly. Her Dad certainly took it as an offence to be corrected, bringing him over a mug of the daily brew.

There was some verbal back and forth (”No, I’m fine, honestly,” “Really, I insist,” “I’m honestly not that much of a coffee person...” “Then why are you drinking that, hmm?”) before Banjo finally screwed up his face to try a sip... and then was clearly actually shocked at it being good.

(That was both of them, now. Sento had been more polite, but Misora had still noticed him bracing himself.)

Banjo didn’t leave it at that though, suddenly declaring “Dude, you really  _ are _ good at this! You’ve gotta teach me, I’ve never gotten it right myself!”

Dad was clearly so tickled pink at the praise from his idol that whatever hatchet there had been was as good as buried, and he agreed to the mentorship immediately. “I mean, it’s not like you’ll be of too much use in a cafe if you can’t even make a decent brew!”

So Banjo was settling in fine. Sento, on the other hand, was... shyer? Or, no, that didn’t seem quite right, because he’d frequently leap right into the flow of conversation, joking and light, natural as anything, no sign of social anxiety-- only to eventually suddenly look as though he remembered something painful, and quiet down, looking distant and somber.

Banjo would notice when that happened and-- wince, and give his companion a reassuring squeeze. And that at least seemed to reassure Sento some.

Misora found herself somehow worried about him. Which was weird, she barely knew him, they were acquaintances of less then a week, barely even coworkers.

She rubbed at her wrist.

(Something was still missing.)

“You do that a lot.”

Misora found herself snapped back to the present. Said present being just after closing, she had let her mind drift off as she was cleaning up the kitchen, and Sento was sweeping up the seating area.

“Your wrist. You’re always messing with it.” Sento looked over the counter at her with this bizzare concern-yet-also-somehow-maybe-hope? “...Does something about it bother you?”

Misora unclasped her wrist, returning to the countertop she had left halfway wiped down. “Don’t worry about that, it’s just a habit.”

Sento continued staring over at her, as if waiting for something else… but Misora couldn’t think of anything to continue with, not anything that made sense, not that wasn’t just formless vague impressions. A moment passed, before Sento softly sighed, turning back to his sweeping.

Misora just wished she could just figure out the  _ words _ , but. In the absence of that, the dishes wouldn’t do themselves.

-

_ To: Dad _

_ Where did you go? You’ll be back soon, right? What time? _

Misora stared down at her phone screen, at the text she had sent only a couple of minutes ago. She didn’t understand these waves of worry that would crash over her when her Dad was gone too long. He was just on some errand or something, he’d be back soon, what, did she think he would get lost? And yet a clawing fear churned her insides; she needed some kind of reassurance.

_ just picking up a new blend from a supplier! back in a jiff, probbb around 8? _

See? It was fine. It was fine. Nothing to worry about. He was safe.

The clawing fear subsided, but didn’t entirely abate. It was fine. He’d be home soon. He’d be home and then she’d know for sure it was fine, right? But it was fine.

She picked at the scrunchie around her wrist. (She had hoped it would help, but… no, too warm, too soft, that wasn’t right at all…)

The bell at the door of the cafe suddenly jingled, and she straightened up in her seat, turning to see who had arrived. Not her dad, not for awhile yet, and they’re closed, so it shouldn’t be a customer… oh, of course, it was Sento and Banjo, each carrying bags of groceries and chatting to each other. Sento did at least take the chance to wave over to her, though, so she responded--

“Welcome home.”

She was rewarded with a slightly surprised smile. “It’s good to be back.”

And it’s-- completely casual, on reflex, but, it’s, important, it’s so important, they’re home, why is it so casual, why is it so important, why why why,

She fiddled with the scrunchie around her wrist. Snap. She fiddled with the scrunchie. Snap. She fiddled with the--

Wait.

“It-- it really is you, you really are Sento-- and-- and Banjo, and you both, you made it back, and,” her ability to ramble on any further was choked up, and she could feel the stinging damp building up around her eyes, and-- it really was, it really was…

“...You assholes, I can’t believe you didn’t say anything!”

Banjo’s face scrunched up at the accusation, before shoving Sento’s shoulder with (playful, admittedly,) annoyance. “Hey, I was totally telling Sento we should have just told you!”

Sento sputtered, a hand in his hair. “I-- what if she hadn’t been able to remember?! Then we’d just have been some loons that made up a ludicrous story and things would have been awkward forever.”

Rolled eyes. “Right, like it wasn’t awkward pretending not to know one of our best friends. I swear, if it had taken much longer I was about to just admit it myself.”

Despite their petty bickering (they were always so quick to bicker) neither of them could suppress the grins taking over their features. Misora felt a grin of her own- she had them back, they came back, they didn’t leave her this time.

Misora’s brain continued zapping between a thousand suddenly newly remembered connections. There wasn’t just them, but, everyone-- all of her family-- the entire crowded cafe of her heroes-- oh, damn the next time she saw her Dad she was going to hug him and never let go ever-- And--

“Oh, god, Sawa, she was-- we were her entire family, what even happened to her? I can’t believe I left her--”

Banjo placed his hand on her shoulder, steadying her. “Whoa! Hey, don’t worry. I mean we were worried too, but don’t worry, she’s doing fine.”

Misora supposed Sento could probably see the skepticism written large on her features, as he added further explanation. “You see... without the Skywall Nanba isn’t the weapons giant they were in the old world, they’re just a small machinery company. So Sawa is safe on that front, we’re pretty sure she really is just a reporter in this reality.”

That was. Ugh. She still felt awful for having abandoned her, however unintentionally, but at least hopefully the harm wouldn’t be great… but, whatever. She knew  _ now _ , and now she could fix things.

As the filtered golden light from the setting sun shined in through the windows, they ended up drifting into chatting, bickering, joking, and the atmosphere of the cafe finally felt right again. They had a lot to catch her up on on what had happened after the two worlds fused (There really was some weird Banjo clone, it turned out. And apparently they had spent a couple weeks just visiting some of this world’s many Kamen Riders before returning to Nascita? Huh.)

“Oh, Sento has been writing this entire script record of what happened in the old world? I mean, I’ve been helping of course, you’ve gotta take a look, let me go grab it--” And with that Banjo was leaping up, dashing over to the basement to retrieve it.

Instead of going to follow after Banjo though, Sento paused and looked back at her. “...Are you, okay with this? You finally had the life you deserved, with a complete childhood, and your dad, and school, and everything…” He sighed, looking downwards. “...Now you have so many more bitter memories to deal with.”

“That’s… oh, Sento, you’re ridiculous.”

The confusion on his face was obvious-- because of course it was, it was  _ him _ , never was there so idiotic a genius-- so she continued, “I get to remember the people I love. I get to remember them, and know that we’ve won a brighter future, and know that I can find them all again. Missing them, without even knowing them, without knowing that I knew them… that’s what was bitter.”

“They’re all going to miss you too. Are you going to keep them waiting?”

Sento gave a quiet laugh at that-- or, was it a laugh or an attempt to hide getting choked up? Something in the space between. “...You know, you’re probably right. Yeah. Let’s do this.”


End file.
